Hamster Hell Novels & Stories

Lyra inquired, her keen eyes assessing Hazel's reactions. Hazel stuttered in response, and Lyra couldn't help but notice the subtle signs of nervousness—her raised heartbeat and dilated pupils. The atmosphere became charged with an unspoken tension as Lyra delved deeper into her inquiry, each moment revealing more than Hazel might have intended. "I was sick. I... fever," Hazel replied. Lyra sensed her vulnerability, recognizing her as merely a human. However, this didn't negate the fact that Hazel could potentially be used as a rogue's pawn to infiltrate the pack.

Hazel hit her phone on the wall, she pushed her hair back in frustration. "Ma! Are you alright?" "Get lost, I want to be left alone.' Her driver bows then leaves her, Hazel wants to be left alone, she hates her life, hearing those words from the woman in jail, Hazel is the elderly woman in the hoodie who visited Camille Kyle, she feels betrayed, her husband's illegitimate daughter is right under the same roof with her, she had been caring for her even though, she doesn't love Barbara, at least, she was a mother figure to Barbara.

Havermouth, Present Time, 1.5 weeks after Retaking Havermouth From the Van Helsings “No biting, and no chewing,” Harry cautioned the zombie-woman sternly as they held a knife to their wrist. “Are we absolutely clear on that? This,” they gestured to their body. “Is an artwork. You do not maul it. That would be very rude of you, and we would have to rethink the hospitality that we are extending you.”

she called again, her voice less steady this time. Still nothing. Hazel’s heart pounded in her chest. Was she imagining things? Was she finally losing her mind? She let out a frustrated breath, brushing dirt off her clothes. "Maybe I hit my head too hard some where," she muttered. But her mind was clear. Too clear. The whispers, the eerie stillness of the water, the voice in her head—it had all happened. Hazel exhaled sharply. She couldn’t waste time worrying about ghosts or hallucinations. She had a bigger problem. She had to get to Damien’s pack.

“She’s Hazel Watts, the maid who cleans the room of Crimson Pack’s Alpha. I paid her for some inside information but never thought I’d be ready to hear such things.” The veins in Herny’s neck were almost popping. He looked like he was ready to kill, in fact. With furrowed eyebrows, I flipped through the file and had the same feeling of disgust. “Damn!” I cursed as I read her medical file. Hazel was only twenty years old when she lost her parents in an attack. Not only was she captured to be a maid of their alpha, but she was also used as a punching bag. Her every little mistake was tantamount to a punishment worse than what thieves in the Dark Moon Pack were receiving.

Charon bowed and left the throne room. The palace grounds and the surrounding fields were called Erebus. This was the deepest part of the Underworld. No birds flew there, but the sounds of wings could be heard from the three fearsome creatures who had just returned. These were Tisiphone, Alecto, and Megaera, the Furies, the Eumenides, or the Kindly Ones. They were hags, with snarky hair, red-hot eyes, and yellow sharp teeth. They slashed through the air over Erebus Field towards Hades' palace. They carried with them metal-studded whips. If they found a victim, they would whip the flesh from his bones. Their normal task was to visit the earth and punish evil-doers, but this time, it was of a

It's exterior wasn't too fancy, but one could tell it's material and decor were well thought of and were of high quality. Room service took the luggage off me, cordially greeting Alicia. We walked past the lobby into a very large dining hall - that was the thing with vampires they loved eating together on a table,it was a time when they could recount their ordeals,gossip, publicly abuse their "pets" and make mockery of humans. It was relatively empty besides the guy who sat at the extreme holding a wine glass and a bottle of human blood which read "Type B" drinking it in a quite particular way. There was also a crate with two bottles missing which Blake assumed was also filled with blood.

Creepy. As I approached the changing room, I could hear moans coming from inside. I opened the door. My eyes widened and I felt bile rising up in my throat. Darren was inside with his dick buried to the hilt in some girl. I stepped back as the disgusting smell of sex hit me like a ton of bricks. I stepped back to get away from them, I turned to run but came face to face with Sheila.

I heard a gruffy voice in the distance, dishing out orders. Dammit! I should've pulled out the maid's guts when I had the chance! “How do these werewolves even summon their wolves?” I wondered, trying to summon my wolf based on the knowledge I had gathered, especially from Alpha Cassius's memory. “Dammit! That old man made this appear too easy.”

The sickening stench of rotting roses chokes the air as the bloody hurricane instantly dive-bombs the roaring werewolf. But I am already gone. The second Arlo screamed, I grabbed my VIP client by the waist and vaulted backward off the shattered balcony. Above us, Liviel hovers lazily in the night sky, streaming the carnage like a movie. Inside the room, the fight is a terrifying, high-speed blur of violence—razor-sharp claws tearing desperately through a screeching hurricane of blood-mist bats. Then, a deafening howl shatters the night. The blood hurricane is violently blown back.